


Tale As Old As Time

by Reyn



Series: Disney Zutara series [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyn/pseuds/Reyn
Summary: Beauty and the Beast fusion: the mob scene
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Disney Zutara series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1205218
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Tale As Old As Time

**Author's Note:**

> I FORGOT I EVER WROTE THIS. But I've remembered now, so I'm adding it to my Disney collection.

The large bedroom door swung open silently at Prince Zuko's touch. Inside, the queen-sized four poster bed was made impeccably; not a wrinkle in its blankets or a pillow out of place. The vanity against the wall stood bare except for the single, empty perfume bottle that was simply there for show.  
  
As he entered the room, Zuko ran his hand over the cool top of the dresser, noticing the way dust failed to collect on his fingers. Fearing his wrath, the servants had remained as meticulous as always. Or perhaps they were simply foolish enough to cling to the hope that the young maiden, Katara, would be returning.  
  
Zuko wasn't a fool. He knew well enough that when he had given the woman her freedom – released her to save her idiot brother from freezing to death in the woods – that she wouldn't be coming back.   
  
And now it was as if she had never been here in the first place.   
  
Her peasant comb, which had probably cost no more than three shillings, was gone. The ornate brush set she had rejected by throwing out into the hall had been brought out of its hiding place and replaced in one of the vanity's drawers. Every sign of regality she had originally rejected in a display of temper that matched and quelled his own had been repaired and replaced in her absence now that she was no longer around to appease.  
  
Often, Zuko wondered if she took the gowns he had gifted to her, but he could never bring himself to open the wardrobe and look.  
  
Crossing the floor, the Prince gazed out the window and down to the darkened grounds below. He could see almost everything the outside of the castle had to offer from here. The gardens where she taught him how to feed the birds, the field where they had their first snowball fight, the balcony where he had given her the necklace mere moments before letting her go…  
  
Zuko's eyes squeezed shut. He should have known better than to hope that she would stay. Or come back. It was as he always knew – no one in their right mind would want to be with someone with a disfigured face and a temper to match. Not that he hadn't tried to change for her sake. But in the end, it no longer mattered.  
  
"My Lord! My Lord!"  
  
Golden eyes opened into narrowed slits. He made no move to turn or even acknowledge the servant; his anger bristling at the simple fact that the maid had known with ease where to find him.  
  
Used to her Lord's silence, the maid continued. "Sir, the castle is under attack!"  
  
In the distance, thunder rumbled. If Zuko strained his ears enough, he could hear the dull roar of the enraged mob that was approaching with the distant storm. So after years of being oppressed by his family, the villagers finally decided they had enough.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Let them come." If even half of Katara's words had been true, then their anger towards him was just.  
  
The maid's gasp told him otherwise. "But sir…"  
  
At this, Zuko turned, the lack of fight or fire in his eyes shutting her up just as effectively as if it were there.  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore." The woman continued to dumbly stand there as Zuko left the room. Pausing, he turned. "If it's your own lives you fear for, you all are free to leave."  
  
He did not see the maid shake her head before running off in the opposite direction just as the sound of the battering ram hitting the castle's front doors echoed through the halls.  
  
It didn't take long for the attackers to break through. By the time Zuko made it back to the West Wing, the sounds of the battle had already begun. From one of the tower's windows, the prince could view the front courtyard. Impassive golden eyes took in the scene of bloodshed below as his faithful guards did all they could to protect their home.  
  
Behind him, he heard doors banging open, one by one. Zuko remained where he was until the door to the empty room he was in was thrown open as well. With a slight twist of his head, he could see a man with unruly brown hair poised to attack with a set of hooked swords.  
  
For a moment the man stood there, tensed, but when Zuko made no move against him, he lowered his guard.  
  
"You're Prince Zuko?" the man asked, a tone of disbelieving wonder in his voice. He snorted. "I don't believe this. _You're_ the one we've lived in fear of for so long?" A vase shattered as the attacker took his frustration out on the nearest object before stalking forward. "You hardly look like someone who deserves anyone's respect and loyalty. Especially Katara's."  
  
The name brought a reaction from Zuko, but as he moved to fully turn, his head met the blunt end of one of the swords as it was swung at him, sending him back against the fragile glass of the tall window. A shattering sounded and he suddenly found himself looking down at the balcony one story below, its tiled floor littered with shattered glass.  
  
Gripping the windowsill, Zuko pushed himself back up.  
  
Katara. His attacker knew Katara. Confusion flooded Zuko. Why would these people be here if they were friends of Katara? Did she send this mob? Did they simply assume the worst when Katara returned to town with her barely-alive brother in her arms?  
  
"I don't understand…"   
  
A kick to the back of his legs sent Zuko to his knees.  
  
"I wouldn't expect a beast like you to understand," the man behind him snarled. "You probably don't even realize you've done anything wrong."  
  
Wrong? Was he really so undeserving of love?  
  
Mindful of the broken glass, Zuko held the windowsill as he once again tried to stand, only to have the wind knocked out of him as his back was hit with the hilt of the sword.  
  
Over his coughing, Zuko heard the man's cold words as the skies opened up and rain began to fall.  
  
"You're pathetic."  
  
They cut him deeper than any knife ever could, taking away whatever remaining will to fight and live Zuko may have had left. They were the same words Katara had muttered at him in their first face to face fight after she had finally been convinced to leave her room. Those words were the ones that had struck a chord in him and convinced him to at least make an effort to try and change.  
  
An effort that was obviously in vain.  
  
" _Jet, no!!_ "  
  
Zuko tensed at the familiar voice and his eyes automatically began to search the battlefield below, quickly finding the dark-skinned woman in blue on her horse, the only thing that was standing still in the chaotic mass of bodies.  
  
"Katara…" Zuko breathed.   
  
But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking past him. "No! No, Jet, don't!"  
  
Frowning, Zuko whirled around to find the hooked end of his attacker's sword descending upon him. With reflexes honed through years of training, Zuko avoided the blow, rolling to the side of the window frame and throwing himself backward into the room, much to the surprise of the other man.   
  
Feeling alive for the first time since Katara left, Zuko quickly took in his surroundings, realizing he was in his meditation room. On the adjacent wall hung his twin swords. He dove towards them, only to have his ankle hooked and pulled out from under him.  
  
"Not fond of meeting your demise at the hand of a _peasant_?" the attacker spat, bringing his swords down once again, but missing as the prince continued to scramble forward.  
  
Zuko ignored him, all thoughts focused on defending himself long enough to get down to Katara. As he got up to his feet, a sharp pain ran through his arm as steel met flesh, and he stumbled to the side to prevent the wound from digging any deeper.  
  
Gripping his shoulder, Zuko leaned against the wall, his eyes widening milliseconds before he slid to the side, narrowly avoiding being skewered alive. Turning his fall into a roll, he reached the wall with his swords and snatched them up just in time to stop a follow-up blow.   
  
The comparison in strength would have been no contest if Zuko hadn't been suffering from head and shoulder injuries. But even with the handicaps, the surprise and fear that flashed through the other man's dark eyes let Zuko know that he still had the upper hand.  
  
With an empowering cry, the prince pushed the other man back and began with a series of his own attacks, each one driving the other back to the broken window. With a sadistic smirk, Zuko reversed his swords and hit his attacker with enough strength to send him spinning out of the gaping hole and falling to the balcony down below.  
  
Placing his foot on the windowsill, Zuko peered over the edge, squinting against the gust of wind that brought a splatter of rain against his face. His lips tugged down as he watched the man struggle to stand. Zuko launched himself out the window and down to the balcony. Despite the fall, the other was still light on his feet as he jumped up and turned to defend himself against each and every one of Zuko's attacks.  
  
It quickly became apparent that this man had been in his fair share of battles, whereas Zuko merely had extensive training. He knew how to take advantage of his surroundings, even if they were to his greater disadvantage. Broken bits of glass were constantly being kicked out at Zuko and the hooked swords were in constant movement – alternating between attacking the prince and being used to help keep balance against the slippery tile.   
  
Zuko, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping his footing steady to support his heavy attacks and realized this was a losing battle as his back hit the stone railing.  
  
"Did you honestly think she'd want you when she had someone like me?"  
  
Zuko glared, but answered regardless. "Yes."  
  
The attacker blinked in surprise before he threw his head back with laughter. A fatal mistake as Zuko tightened his grip on the sword with his stronger hand and lashed out, taking satisfaction in the way the laughing cut off in a howl of pain as the other man stumbled against the railing beside him.  
  
Straightening, Zuko towered over his attacker, his swords connected as one, raised for the killing blow.  
  
"No – don't! Please! She wouldn't – Katara wouldn't approve!"  
  
Zuko faltered. The man was right. Katara hated bloodshed and death. He lowered his hand and looked to the side.   
  
"Get out," he ordered.  
  
Eyes widened at the unfamiliar show of compassion as Zuko cast his swords aside.  
  
"Zuko!"  
  
Both men turned and looked up, a look of true happiness gracing the prince's features as he stepped forward.  
  
"Katara!"  
  
Using the vines that clung to the archway of the balcony, Zuko climbed to the broken window, the only thought on his mind to reach her and prove she wasn't just an illusion.  
  
"You came back." He was unable to keep the wonderment from his voice and felt peace spread through his being as she gave him a watery smile.  
  
"Of course I did. I—"  
  
Pain.  
  
Agonizing pain ripped through his back, just below his right shoulder blade. He cried out, arching his spine as he felt the blade of a dagger being pulled out. He would have fallen back if not for the tight grip Katara had on the front of his shirt.   
  
The poor soul behind him was not as fortunate as Zuko knocked into him, causing him to lose his grip on the vines and fall to the balcony below.  
  
Zuko could feel himself being hauled through the window and he did his best to assist, toppling on top of Katara as he gritted his teeth against the stabbing pain. Gently as she could, Katara rolled them over and pulled back, grabbing Zuko's hand as she stroked his cheek.  
  
"Zuko…?" she asked fearfully.  
  
Opening his eyes, Zuko did his best to focus on the ocean-blue eyes. "You're here…"  
  
Katara's hand covered her mouth as she suppressed a sob.  
  
"I'm glad," Zuko grimaced in pain and tried once more. "I'm glad I was able to see you…one last time."  
  
"What? No, don't talk like that!" Katara chastised. "You'll be fine!"  
  
"I regretted, not telling…" The world was beginning to fade on top of being blurry. He could tell he had no time for words. "I love you."  
  
Katara's fingers wrapped around the large, circular charm of her necklace. "I know. I feel the same way."  
  
Zuko's eyes widened at the revelation and he struggled to fill his lungs with breath. "You – you do?"  
  
Katara nodded. "I love you, Your Highness."  
  
A true smile bloomed over Zuko's face at the affectionate nickname as his eyes drifted shut. "I'm…glad…"  
  
From a great distance, he could hear muffled voices shouting and then, no more.  
  
*  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"Hold still."  
  
"OW!"  
  
"Oh for—" Katara threw the rag down and slammed her fist down on the bed covers. "Maybe if you stopped digging through the drawers and focused on staying still it wouldn't hurt!"  
  
Zuko cast a petulant glare over his shoulder before finally giving in and sliding the bedside drawer shut and leaning back so that his wound could be cleaned.  
  
His constant squirming made Katara impatient and by the time she was done, she tossed the cloth into the water bowl with a huff before stomping out and complaining about something or the other as one of the servants calmly shut the door behind her.  
  
Zuko rolled his eyes as he once again reached for the bedside drawer, finding the object he had been searching for with ease now that he had the freedom to do so. Pulling out the small jewelry box, Zuko opened it for reassurance and smiled. Soon as he was allowed out of bed. He'd take her on a picnic. Or to one of the best restaurants in town. And there would be a party. Or there could be a party here. He'd throw a ball!   
  
But that might be calling a bit too much attention to her, and she probably wouldn't like that.   
  
A small picnic was probably best. And then…  
  
And then he would ask her to stay with him. Forever.


End file.
